Imperfect | est. 2015

39. Fireworks

Just thought I'd warn y'all—this is probably the longest chapter in the book. xD So, get comfy. Lol. This chapter is sort of extremely important xD.

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I felt my stomach fluttering as soon as I woke up. My eyesight was hazy from only having them half open. I lost track of how many times I yawned in my attempt to stretch my arms out. And when I rolled over to my right side, Connor's face was closer to mine than I'd expected it to be.

My heart just about stopped. 

I had no idea.

Why was I so jittery about being so close to him? He was my best friend.

He is my best friend. 

I can't forget that.

His eyes were closed and his face was scrunched up like a child's. His cheeks were even rosy and his hair was messy on one side of his head. And he hated it when that happened— but I thought it was one of the most adorable moments.

I didn't realize how long I was letting myself stare at him. But it was making me think so much. 

I didn't have a problem with it.

Behind me, Addison started to yawn, as well— and with all the stretching, I figured she must've been waking up. 

So, I got myself to roll over, doing my best not to wake Connor.

And I faced her, "You up?" I asked in a whisper. She rubbed her eyes and sat up like a confused animal. Her hair was a mess, and her arms were covered in marks from where the blanket had folded around her.

"Yeah." She grinned, stretching again— enough to make her voice sound funny.

And as she stood to brush her hair out, I managed to roll over and face Connor again. He'd moved his hand so one of them was in front of his face, and I could tell he was starting to slowly wake up.

I didn't know what to do— I didn't want him to think I was staring at him. I guess I was just admiring his bed-head. So, I cleared my throat and pretended to be asleep. Although, I knew Addison would probably ruin it for me and tell him I was awake.

I  just closed my eyes and hurried to bury my face into the pillow I was practically sharing with him.

And I could feel him move around a little, "Skylar," his voice was low and sleepy— which, to me, was obnoxiously attractive, "wake up."

And when I pretended not to notice, he moved a little closer, "Skylarrrr." He whispered and tapped me on the nose.

And I knew he was in a good mood— especially because he wasn't treating me like a stranger anymore.

"Wake up. I know you probably want to shower before we leave for breakfast."

And I just my face into the pillow enough so he could only see the side of my head.

He set his hand on my arm, trying to shake me awake, but it was almost as if I was trying to play dead, "Want me to just bring you a coffee?"

And I grunted. I didn't know if I was giving him a strange way to say yes or if I was just trying to refuse getting up.